


and i am relieved that i left my room tidy

by spiralingcosmos



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Angst, Gen, I have no idea what else to tag this, Not Beta Read, this is just out fic but from nastya’s perspective idk what else to tell you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26650120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiralingcosmos/pseuds/spiralingcosmos
Summary: It’s terribly selfish, Nastya knows, what she’s planning to do. Everyone will be so upset.But she’s upset, too, so she has the right to be selfish. Just once.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	and i am relieved that i left my room tidy

**Author's Note:**

> title from last words of a shooting star by mitski!

Nastya wakes up in her bed, not in the haphazard pile of blankets and pillows that are still nestled in a warm corner of the engineering room. It’s cold in her room, too cold, but it’s not like she’s going to be here long.

(the engineering room has lain empty for many nights, and nastya only slept tonight because she wasn’t sure if she ever would again, and the nightmares, when they came, were vague and filled with unidentifiable faces, blurry from the millennia.)

She makes her bed. She straightens the covers, fluffs the pillows, smooths the sheets. She sighs.

(nastya learned to make the bed from jonny, someone else always did it for her back in cyberia. the name sticks in the back of her throat. both of the names, really.)

It’s terribly selfish, Nastya knows, what she’s planning to do. Everyone will be so upset.

(she’s not saying goodbye, not to ashes, not to ivy, not to raphaella, or brian, or tim, or marius or the toy soldier or even jonny, and she’s not saying goodbye to—)

But she’s upset, too, so she has the right to be selfish. Just once. 

(she really doesn’t, whispers the little uncertain voice in the back of her head. she’s just as bad as the rest, and leaving isn’t going to change that. nastya quiets the voice with no small amount of unease.)

Everything’s in order now, and with a degree of uncertainty, Nastya pulls the cold metal piece out from the bag resting on her chair.

(it’s so cold, colder than it ought to be; it feels like a lifeless piece of metal — she puts the thought out of her mind.)

The door to her quarters closes with a soft click, softer even than the light thud of her boots in the well-trodden hallways. It’s been a while since all the paneling was last cleaned, and the gleaming metal feels duller than usual. Nastya clutches the small bag to her chest, tighter and tighter, as the end of her journey comes into view. Anxiety stirs in her chest, and she’s still cold.

(not as cold as you’ll be soon, that damn voice reminds her. the metal under her feet hums like a sleeping body, and she hates to do it like this, but then that blasted godforsaken _fucking_ conscious that nastya was certain she no longer had informs her that she’s not leaving her, is she? you’re taking her with you, aren’t you?)

Her fingers are on the keypad, and under her heavy coat she shudders ever so slightly, and Nastya grips the strap of the bag so tightly that it cuts into her palm, and then —

and then she hears footsteps.

And Jonny throws himself down the corner, grinning wildly — someone is trying to access the airlocks.

**Author's Note:**

> i was thinking about last words of a shooting star and nastyaurora again, as one does, and then realized i haven’t seen much out stuff from nastya’s perspective, and then i was possessed by a demon of angst and wrote this instead of doing spanish class. hope y’all liked it!


End file.
